Dear Simply Potatoes Folk,
I am a simple man. I sing a simple song. That song is “I shall eat nothing that I can’t pronounce”.
I love potatoes, but quite frankly, they’re a lot of work. Cooking. Peeling. Dicing. Seasoning. I have commitments to keep. Clients, partners, justices of the peace, they care little about my little potato fetish.
I was at the local grocery store, picking up my organic meats, vegetables, fruits, and dairy products. I walked right past the bread isle—too many chemicals in a loaf of factory bread. I walked past the cereals—after wheat, there are about 86 ingredients that I’ve never heard of.
My girlfriend Trina is a label-reader. One snowy Saturday evening, I was cooking her a lovely Cornish hen supper. As I was preparing the potatoes, she looked at the package and pointed out the additives: potassium sorbate, disodium pyrophosphate and sodium bisulfite. I’ve never heard of any of these.
I’m sure they have a purpose. I’m sure they do something. But don’t they go against the “Simply Potatoes” label? Aren’t you selling a big potato fib? For all I know, I served Trina Mr. Potato heads, chopped in little bits.
I think the label should read “Simply Potatoes, Potassium Sorbate, Disodium Pyrophosphate and Sodium Bisulfite”.
Sincerely,
Jerry
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No response
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